


Twentieth Century Blues

by ninthgymleader



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Historical, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:57:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninthgymleader/pseuds/ninthgymleader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas hunt a djinn. History plays matchmaker. What else is new? </p><p>Takes place in alternate season nine where Cas lives comfortably in the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Warehouse Off Center St.

"So we're hunting a djinn?" Dean's voice is higher than normal. An air of lightness to it that surfaces whenever he's in the Batcave. He's sitting on the far end of the couch, nursing a cup of coffee as Sam talks. 

"That's right." Sam's reply is quick, terse, and begs for elaboration. His face is still buried in the laptop when he adds, "But it's different from a normal djinn, specifically in the way that it chooses its victims. For example, it only takes people in pairs, no more, no less, no exceptions. And get this, every pair is almost always in a relationship. Some were married, some were dating, some were just sexually involved.” 

“What, like friends with benefits?” Dean jokes, expecting Sam to yell at him for being insensitive.

“Actually yeah, that’s exactly what the last couple was. Two guys by the name of John Parks and Ian Sutherland. I took the liberty of interviewing John’s sister Sadie, and she pretty much confirmed it with her body language.” 

“Oh.” is all Dean can say. He wasn’t expecting his joke to have any truth in it. 

“Friends with benefits?” Castiel decides to join the conversation. He’s sprawled out on the massive couch, a mere six inches between his feet and Dean’s thigh. Dean looks over at Cas and sees him idly toying with a pen in his hand. 

“Uh...yeah...how do I describe it? Well...imagine you have a friend who’s really hot, but as a person they kind of suck. So instead of dating them you just sort...hook up...with them from time to time. Y’know, all of the sex, none of the feelings.” Dean smirks at his response, thinking that if he had any friends during his twenties, he might have tried the arrangement at one point or another. 

“That is...disconcerting.” Cas deadpans, all while pondering the merits of such a relationship. 

“I don’t know, sounds convenient to me. We can hunt the thing without having to worry about getting stuck in mirrorverse for a change.” Dean smoothly changes the subject back to the djinn, then adds, “Oh and the hunt is local too. No driving for ten hours at a time. Let’s get the stuff we need and get going.” Dean’s tone shifts from relaxed to impatient over the course of a few seconds. 

“Hold on Dean, we don’t even know where to find it yet.” Sam quips, “Although, my best guess would have to be the warehouse off Center St.. All the bodies were found within a mile radius of it, plus the place hasn’t been used in over a decade.” 

“Great, how long a drive?” Dean says as he gets up from the couch.

“About forty minutes, give or take.” 

“Sweet. Alright Cas, you comin’ with?”

“Of course.” he responds without giving a second thought. “And I do believe there is fresh lamb’s blood in the fridge from a previous hunt. It is necessary to kill a djinn if memory serves correct.” 

“Aww, lil” Cas is learning.” Dean says it half-mocking, half-sincere. Cas is unamused by the comment though, until Dean gives him a friendly pat on the back. They make eye contact for a good ten, maybe ninety seconds. Neither of them are counting. It takes a strained, audible cough from Sam to bring them both back to reality.

“Mmmhhh,” Dean clears his throat before speaking again. “Right, we should get going then. Sam, if we’re not back in two hours something’s gone wrong, okay.” 

Sam just nods, smirking silently to himself. 

 

***

 

Dean is driving while simultaneously thumbing through his collection of cassette tapes. Cas is sitting shotgun while dipping two silver knives in the container of blood. 

“Ahh, here we go. Now this right here, is a classic. If you don’t like it, you’re finding your own way home.” Dean is practically beaming when he says it. Just happy to have his wheels, his music, and his best friend on a hunt. 

“Is it more of AC/DC? To be honest, I found their singing to be...”

“Awesome?” Dean Cuts him off.

“Loud.” Cas finishes, “But yes, I suppose they did strike abundant awe.” And if you weren’t paying attention, there's no way you would've caught it. The hint of a chuckle in Cas’ voice.was present, but just barely. 

“I’m going to take that as a ‘you like it’, okay. And no, it’s Led Zeppelin, all time English classic, baby.”  
.  
“I’m not an infant, Dean.” Cas corrects him, forcing a hearty laugh from Dean’s windpipe. Dean swears that Cas is doing this on purpose. Inventing his own brand of humor based around missing social cues and figures of speech. 

He puts the cassette in and pushes play, the opening riff from Immigrant Song flooding the car as they drive. Dean sings along, awfully as always. 

“We come from the land of the ice and snow  
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow  
The hammer of the gods  
Will drive our ships to new lands  
To fight the horde, singing and crying  
Valhalla, I am coming!”

Cas listens intently as the man next to him sings, joining in on the ‘ah ah ah’ part and being only slightly better at hitting the notes. 

 

***

 

The warehouse is big. Really big. Massive might actually be a more appropriate word. Cas suggest they split up to cover more ground. Dean’s reluctant, but ultimately agrees. He thinks back to what Sam said about the pairs, and even though him and Cas aren’t ‘sexually involved’, it’s still might be safer if they’re on their own. 

He’s about to give Cas the go ahead when they hear a noise. It’s a loud cumbersome thud, that gets their attention. Both of their bodies are turned towards the noise only to see nothing there. Dean turns his head towards Cas, who’s wearing that typical look of confusion, head-tilt in all its glory. 

Then everything goes black.


	2. Puttin' on the Ritz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas wakes up in 1929

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a beta. If you're interested, message me at http://periodical-homoeroticism.tumblr.com/

When Cas comes to, he realizes three things.  
One: He has a throbbing headache.  
Two: Dean Winchester is standing over him.  
Three: He's definitely not in Kansas anymore.

He smirks a little at that last thought, as Sam had only just recently shown him The Wizard of Oz and he was already making a reference to it. Dean would call that progress if Cas had said it aloud. He considers repeating the thought before Dean cuts him off.

"You okay Cas? You kind of passed out." Dean says it with feigned concern, but the ear splitting grin on his face says otherwise. He's got on a white tuxedo and sharp black bow tie, his hair is slicked back intelligently, and Cas can't help but think of how good it looks on him, vastly different from his usual flannel and t-shirt. He comes in close and smiles before continuing, "Here Cas, you look fried, let me help you up." Scotch is heavy on his breath and he seems almost giddy. Dean grabs his arm and Cas obliges, hauling him up in the air and into Dean's personal bubble. They're staring into each other's eyes again, a few inches between their mouths. If this was a few years back, Dean would've grilled Cas for not respecting his personal space, but Cas quickly gets the feeling that this is more than just a few years back, at least if the room he's standing in is any indication.

Castiel backs away from Dean, trying best to orient himself and get a grip on his surroundings. Questions arise like bile in his throat, quickly and most uncomfortably. "The djinn!" Cas yells, "What happened to the djinn?" Cas is exasperated, his memory his hazy but he's quickly filling in the patches.

"Gin? Don't you think you've had an earful? You seem a bit bent as is." Dean stammers out the words and Cas tilts his head in confusion. These words were new for Dean, and Cas could tell that something was amiss. He looks down to see a similar white tux and bow tie on his person. He looks around and sees extravagant white furniture lining the walls of what looks to be a ritzy hotel. On the furniture, he sees couples dancing. Their movements seem different from the ones he's associated with 2013. No one is shaking their rear violently in what Dean refers to as 'twerking'. The music is different too, a simple melody played on a stringed instrument. It sounds grainy and rough through the old-time speakers.

"If you're blue  
And you don't know where to go to  
Why don't you go where Harlem flits  
Puttin' on the Ritz  
Spangled Gowns upon the bevy of  
High browns from down the levy  
All misfits  
Puttin' on the Ritz"

Castiel turns to Dean again.

"Dean, where are we...what year is this?" Cas takes a nervous gulp before Dean can respond.

"You poor little bunny, half seas over aren't you? How much've you had."

"Is that another reference to cartoons?" Cas deadpans the question and Dean just chuckles.

"Cas, you're slayin' me." he laughs out before putting a hand on Cas' shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you home before you start taking wooden dimes." Dean wraps his arm around Cas' back and leads him out. "Alright old sport, I'll level with you, but only because you're a swell fella and I'm feeling Jake." Cas is staring and Dean has to stop to lick his lips. "We're at the Ritz Hotel in New York City. The year is 1929." His tone is friendly, borderline flirtatious, but his eyes are wary, cautious, constantly scanning the room. Cas wonders idly over the identity of Jake and why Dean is feeling him. That and why a dime would ever be made of wood. It seems clear though that many of his questions will go unanswered so long as he stays here, so he follows Dean's lead.

It occurs to Cas that the djinn had created all this when they were attacked, but that doesn't explain Dean's odd behavior, nor why it chose a lavish, 1920's banquet. Djinns are supposed to drop you in either your best dream or worst nightmare, but this wasn't either. His head hurts too much for this, so he focuses on the arm wrapped around his back. It feels nice and warm, and above all, familiar. Just what he needs to keep calm in this less than ideal situation. He briefly considers the implications of the gesture when Sam's words resurface in his mind.

"...married, dating, or sexually involved."

None of those apply to Dean and Cas, so why are they here? Dean had assumed they would be safe, he had said so back in the bunker, but now look at them. If Sam doesn't get here soon, they risk being emulsified from the inside out. Dean on the other hand doesn't seem nearly as panicked though. Something is up.

Dean leads Castiel out the building without saying anything. When they get outside, Dean immediately hails a checker cab, stating that their apartments are all the way over in Red Hook, "a big freight port in Brooklyn" he says. Cas decides it's best to just go along, ride this dream out until he finds a better option. Cas enters the vehicle first and takes the seat on the far right. Dean follows behind him but misses a step and lands face first into Cas' lap. He chuckles loudly before removing his face from the other man's crotch and Cas can only stare at Dean, wide-eyed and with disbelief. He hadn't acted like this since that night at the brothel, a good five years, and Cas is both awestruck and aroused by the drunken gesture.

They sit in comfortable silence until they arrive at their location about forty minutes later. Dean leads him out and to the side of the building, "C'mon, get a wiggle on. We're taking a shortcut up the fire escape." he says and Cas is really starting to question Dean's bizarre choice of words. They're about to ascend the fire escape when Dean stops behind him. "Did you hear that?" Dean whispers in Cas' ear. His breath his warm and Cas gets that bubbly feeling in the pit of his stomach again. He ignores it in favor of eyeing the street, which Dean is now walking towards.

He sees Dean fall before he hears the gunfire.  
Cas runs over to catch him, panic rising in his body like the current stock market. His hand immediately goes over the wound, applying pressure just like Dean taught him. But he's bleeding profusely, and Cas thinks the bullet might have severed an artery.  
"Stay with me Dean, you can't die like this." Cas tries to stay strong, but the words come out sounding wrecked and broken. He's choking on tears when he yells, "Somebody help us! My friend's been shot!" and he turns back to the man in his arms and says "Dean..." in a last ditch effort to keep the man conscious.

"Cas, I know it's not...ehh...and I'm not sure if you um...if you...but I..." Dean is short of breath, struggling to breathe and wincing in pain as he speaks.

"You what, Dean?"

"I..."

Dean's eyes close. He's gone.

Cas just stares at the lifeless body, taking in its beauty and the cold-hard reality at the same time. Tears run down his face, but his sobbing his inaudible, stifled by shock and depravity. A minute later he is opening a door. He doesn't know where it came from or why he's walking through it. But the minute he does he's somewhere else.


End file.
